


Love, Family, Whatever It Is

by sexier_in_enochian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, And Dean Is A Voyeur, And Sam Is More Than Willing To Comply, Endverse: Wincest Edition, Explicit Sexual Content, If Sam And Dean Went To 2014 Together, In Which Endverse Dean Needs Comforting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeur Dean, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4375982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexier_in_enochian/pseuds/sexier_in_enochian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Wincesty spin on 5x04 The End, in which Sam and Dean find themselves put into 2014 together. I had a need to write this.</p>
<p>The night after the brothers finally succumb to this.. thing; whatever it is between them that neither of them wanted to or dared to acknowledge, Dean begins to withdraw from Sam in typical Dean Winchester fashion. Which couldn't come at a worse time; after Sam has pretty much just found out he's M.F.E.O with none other than the friggin' Devil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, Family, Whatever It Is

The night after the brothers finally succumb to this.. thing; whatever it is between them that neither of them wanted to or dared to acknowledge, Dean begins to withdraw from Sam in typical Dean Winchester fashion. Which couldn't come at a worse time; after Sam has pretty much just found out he's M.F.E.O with none other than the friggin' _Devil._ He calls Dean as soon as Lucifer drops this truth bomb on him.  
  
After last night, Sam gets why Dean is numb to all the Earth shattering revelations at this point. Couldn't get much more Earth shattering than admitting your true feelings for your brother which culminates in frantic, loving yet blindingly passionate sex. Although this 'true vessel' thing is pretty up there on the Wow Factor list too.  
  
"Look, Sam—it doesn't matter—whatever we do. I mean, it turns out that you and me, we're the, uh, the fire and the oil of the Armageddon. You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other, for good."  
  
Sam can't believe Dean is really saying this. And in complete honesty, Dean can't either.  
  
"Dean, it does not have to be like this. We can fight it.."  
  
"Yeah, you're right. We can. But not together. We're not stronger when we're together, Sam. I think we're weaker. Because whatever we have between us—love, family, _whatever it is_ —they are always gonna use it against us." His voice cracks, emotions swimming to the surface. "Yeah, we're better off apart. We got a better chance of dodging Lucifer and Michael, and this whole damn thing; if we just go our own ways."  
  
Soon Dean hangs up, Sam's pleas falling on deaf ears. He heads to bed before he can overthink this; before his resolve breaks, he calls Sam and takes back everything he just said.  
  
When Dean wakes up, the nightstand clock is smashed and he's lying on the uncomfortable springs of the stripped hotel bed. Not only that; the entire room is trashed. _What the hell?_ He wastes no time scrambling to his feet and to the broken window.. and it turns out that the entire city is too, in a state of total devastation and depreciation.  
  
* * *  
  
"Ah, crap.."  
  
Seeing the big, red, angry letters in graffiti on the alley wall spelling out 'CROATOAN,' Dean is pretty sure he's screwed at this point. He hasn't seen a single human being yet. After what he saw of the virus back in Oregon and judging by the state of the city, this brand of demonic germ warfare seems pretty widespread this time. Maybe even worldwide. If so..  
  
His thoughts are interrupted when a series of infected people round the corner, glaring vacantly at him with pure malice. Shit. Time to move. Dean turns on his heel and runs like the wind, the group of Croatoans giving immediate chase. He runs like he never ran before, eventually ducking behind a large garbage can and hearing footsteps race past him, eventually dissipating to silence. Looks like he lost them. Dean pulls his favorite .45 (which he's pretty sure he didn't pack on himself last night in bed) and waits. Is that more footsteps he can hear approaching..?  
  
When he shifts, his foot bumps the garbage can loudly. Fuck. The footsteps pause, then grow louder, clearly having heard the sound and closing in on him. Dean prepares his gun and leaps up, turning in whoever—or whatever's—direction, aiming the gun. And finds himself staring down the barrel of another gun, which is soon lowered when the holder identifies him.  
  
"Dean..?"  
  
"..Sam?"  
  
Dean lowers his own gun upon seeing his brother, looking just as confused as him.  
  
"What the hell's goin' on here, Sammy? Where are we?"  
  
"I don't know.."  
  
Well, whatever's going on, this place isn't safe and if they run into more groups of Croatoans they'll run out of bullets pretty fast.  
  
"Alright— c'mon." Dean takes off in search of a car to hot-wire. He's got no clue where they should go but he'd feel better in a moving vehicle than on foot, especially when darkness falls. Maybe they should check Bobby's place first.  
  
Once they're on the road after dark heading to a place called Camp Chitaqua after a lead they found at Bobby's; the headlights of the old soccer mom van the only source of light around for miles, Dean is pretty convinced he's got this situation figured out.  
  
"Angels, Sam. This has their stink all over it." First that weird Smith and Wesson Sandover thing in which they turned Dean into a boring, salad-munching, monkey-suit-wearing douchebag and now this. And the worst thing? That dick Zachariah had a point. They _were_ destined to be hunters and found their way back to it in the dark, whatever the circumstances. And if this was some kind of divine intervention couples' counselling to force the brothers back together and make them realize they're stronger as a team or something, well.. maybe it was kinda working. Though that didn't seem like the angels usual MO, so maybe they were teaching the Winchesters a lesson they didn't intend to teach.  
  
* * *  
  
When Dean comes to, he's cuffed, tethered up and helpless, his head and heart pounding. He's in a cabin of some kind, seemingly alone. The last thing he remembers is arriving at the camp and making a beeline for the Impala, stripped down, doorless and rusted, feeling utterly horrified at the state of his Baby. And Sam had been right behind him, hadn't he?  
  
Dean's hazy vision clears and he searches the dark room for his brother, or anyone who might give him some goddamn answers. Panic begins to rise in his chest. _Where is Sam? Is he okay?_  
  
His heart lurches when the the door of the cabin creaks open slowly, the silhouette of an unknown party visible on the wooden floor. It begins to come closer. Dean cranes his neck to look over his shoulder but all he can see is darkness—and something moving within it. Shit shit shit.  
  
He prepares to strike with a fist when the shadowy figure finally stands before him (his gun has been taken and he's flat out of options right now), but a strong hand catches his wrist and shushes him. "Dean.. it's me."  
  
"Sam, thank God. Where were you?"  
  
"Saw someone knock you out at the car and carry you in here, so I waited 'till the coast was clear." Sam begins to fumble with the lock on the handcuffs with a thin nail, struggling with it in such darkness.  
  
The rest all happens so fast.  
  
Sam grunts as he's suddenly hit from behind, hitting the ground with a clatter, dropping the nail within Dean's reach.  
  
"Sam!"  
  
Dean grabs the nail and begins to work on the cuffs frantically as his brother and the new arrival wrestle on the floor.  
  
The lock finally gives way with a click and Dean scrambles to his feet right when the stranger has Sam pinned beneath him. He pulls the guy off and eventually manages to pin him down, suddenly thinking to himself that there's something very familiar about the way this guy fights, how his body feels beneath Dean's own. _Very_ familiar.  
  
Then Sam flips on the lights and Dean sees why. He's now looking at a very familiar face. He's looking at himself.  
  
* * *  
  
It takes a lot for the Winchesters to calm this.. other Winchester down, to convince him they're themselves. A rifle stays aimed at them as they demonstrate their authenticity with holy water, a fresh cut from a silver blade, the whole nine yards; finishing with exchanging verbal proof of their credentials—Sam telling this other Dean a story about when they were kids, and Dean opting for confessing the previously top secret Rhonda Hurley Pink Panties story with a grin, which earns him an incredulous look from both Sam and other Dean. Or maybe he's mistaking Sam's _curiosity_ for incredulity, heh.  
  
Something is definitely off about the older Dean, though. He's human and he's really Dean, but as Dean knows himself better than anyone he can tell this guy is a lot more broken, and like there's almost something missing from him. _Like half of his soul has been torn out._ He refuses to talk about himself though, instead informing the brothers of the apocalypse, the virus, and that it's now 2014. Five goddamn years into the future. Good times.  
  
Dean wonders where the future version of Sam is. He doesn't dare to ask, though. Not in front of _his_ Sam. He's way too afraid of the answer. Especially when he begins to notice the way this Future Dean keeps looking at Sam. As though he wants to dart forward and embrace him, as though he hasn't seen him in years. Glancing with longing and affection he is trying to keep buried as best he can. Yeah, Dean knows that look all too well. Other Dean even looks spooked by Sam, as though he's faced with a ghost. And Sam seems to be looking back at him too in the same way he looks at Dean.  
  
When tensions fade out and Sam and Dean successfully establish themselves as the "good guys," Future Dean warns Sam not to walk around camp in daylight, because it will 'raise serious questions.' He adds "you too," toward Dean, but it's too late. His focus was on Sam. A doppelganger raising questions, sure, but why Sam? There's something Future Dean is not telling him, and Dean is done with this whole mysterious thing.  
  
"Okay. Uh.. me. Can I talk to you for a sec?" Dean looks to Sam, then back at him. "Alone?"  
  
Future Dean says nothing, and Dean is pretty sure he already knows what this is about. He grudgingly follows Dean out of the cabin and around the side of the building.  
  
"I wanna know what's goin' on."  
  
There's a brief pause before Future Dean relents. "Alright.."  
  
* * *  
  
Dean feels like he's gonna be sick when the truth comes flowing from Future Dean's mouth, the man sounding disturbingly calm and empty while he explains it.  
  
_He said yes.._  
  
_Lucifer.. wearing Sam.._  
  
_Angels gave up.._  
  
_Too late.._  
  
As much as Dean doesn't want to believe it, he knows it's the truth. And why older Dean looks as though he is missing a part of himself. Because he is. He's missing _Sam._ And this is what he has become without his little brother.  
  
He walks back into the cabin without a word, and as soon as he steps into the room he's faced with Sam, looking just as haunted and pale as himself. Dean's eyes flood with concern. "Sam?"  
  
"I heard everything."  
  
_Damn it._ Dean cautiously closes the door behind him. Future Dean is nowhere in sight and Dean assumes he's taking a walk—or a drink—to clear his head.  
  
"I'll _never_ say yes, Dean. It'll never happen." Sam is shaking a little, voice cracking, the guy clearly terrified. It sounds like he is trying to reassure himself of that fact rather than his older brother.  
  
"I know, Sammy. I know.."  
  
Dean reaches for his brother, drawing him into a tight hug, resting his chin on Sam's shoulder and feeling his whole body trembling with shock.   
  
"It's gonna be okay. Not gonna leave you.." Dean can't believe that the three simple words of 'pick a hemisphere' would lead to the rapid advancement of the apocalypse. He would've been responsible for the downfall of the entire human race. Not like he wasn't back in '09 what with breaking the first seal and all, but Dean didn't anticipate his idea to keep away from Sam backfiring and the pair of them playing right into Lucifer's hands sooner rather than later.  
  
"You can do it different," Future Dean had told him outside, in hopes that when Dean got back home he would say yes to Michael. Future Dean no longer believed in Sam's ability to resist Lucifer, and was prepared to let himself become Michael's vessel, seeing no other choice. There was _always_ a choice. There had to be. Dean would do it different, yes, but he wasn't going to say yes. And if he could help it, neither would Sam. And if the apocalypse still came, at least they'd have each other. That was what mattered the most. Sam was his light in a dark world.  
  
When Dean pulls back from the hug, he doesn't even hesitate and kisses Sam hard on the mouth, overwhelmed with emotion and the unshakable fear of losing him the way the green jacketed Dean had. While the brothers kiss softly, Dean finds himself wondering how hopeless and alone his future self must feel. Running a camp that was gearing up to shoot his little brother and thus kill Lucifer. Future Dean was completely out of options, and Dean knows it must be killing him from inside.  
  
It's weird but Dean finds himself worrying about the guy. Feeling pain on his behalf; which made some form of sense given that they were the same person. And.. he wants to help him. Give him just one moment of relief from the endless emotional turmoil he must feel every waking second of every day, for the past half a decade.  
  
Thus an idea forms.  
  
Withdrawing from the kiss and resting his forehead against Sam's, Dean makes his suggestion.  
  
"Sam? Y'think you could.. I dunno.. spend some time alone with him or somethin'?" Dean's suggestion is vague but in true Winchester telepathy, Sam knows what he means.  
  
The younger brother raises his brows and pulls back to study Dean's features. "You mean..?"  
  
"You want to, don'tcha?"  
  
Sam's mouth twitches and his lips part but he says nothing, which effectively says it all.  
  
"Yeah, that's what I thought."  
  
Christ, Dean's life is so fucked up. _He_ is so fucked up. It's one thing to be screwing your brother, but 'loaning' him to another version of yourself not only takes the cake, it takes the whole goddamn bakery.  
  
And he won't lie—this other Dean with his smoldering glare and militant attitude and thigh holster, well.. he's pretty fucking hot. As vain as it is to admit.  
  
* * *  
  
When Future Dean makes his return, Dean wordlessly pats him on the shoulder and leaves, muttering that he's going to keep watch outside, silently praying that no one approaches and asks him camp-related questions. When he looks back into the cabin, he sees Sam's arms close tightly around Future Dean; giving him the hug he clearly, desperately needs. Dean's lips quirk into the slightest of smiles then he closes the cabin door, giving them their privacy.   
  
Well, _kind of._  
  
It turns out that keeping watch of a camp that is completely silent and sleeping is really, _really_ boring, especially when Dean is aware of what is going on just a few feet away from him.  
  
_Would it be sick of him to..?_  
  
Oh, who is he even kidding? It's far too late to start worrying about that now.  
  
So Dean makes his way around the side of the building cloaked in darkness, feeling guiltily dirty about this. He finds the only window the cabin has with dim light emanating from it and the pane cracked ajar to let in cool air, and he peeks in. He's only doing it to make sure Sam is okay. Totally.  
  
But what he sees makes his breath catch in his throat and heat pool in his stomach.  
  
Sam and older Dean are rolling around on the bed, Sam already relieved of his clothing and Dean's jeans and boxers still around his ankles before he violently kicks them to the floor. They're kissing wildly—much like Dean experienced first hand last night—and lying on their sides, bodies pressed together. Future Dean's lips find the column of Sam's neck and he lays a series of kisses and suckles upon it, marking Sam's skin while Sam's hand slowly drifts to Future Dean's hardened length and closes; beginning to stroke and massage in the same shy and tentative manner he had with Dean last night.  
  
Each kiss administered from Future Dean seems to be delivered with complete devotion. One kiss says "I need you." One kiss says "I miss you." One kiss says "I love you." Sam's fingers are tangled in his brother's hair, stroking through the sandy brown strands comfortingly; the way he knows Dean likes to be soothed.  
  
And younger Dean's hand betrays him, snaking down to his crotch to palm at his own now blood-hot, throbbing erection. Yeah, he's definitely going straight to Hell. _Again._  
  
When over-the-clothing contact isn't enough, Dean fumbles with his belt and zipper, opening his jeans and letting himself out of the confines of his boxers, feeling a small chill from the cool night air. When he finally looks back to the window, Sam is already straddling Future Dean's lap, guiding him toward his entrance and slowly sinking down. Jeez.That was fast..  
  
Dean hears a soft gasp and a weak drawn-out "Sammy.." as though older Dean hasn't said his name in years. Wow. So that's what he and Sam look like when they fuck. It's _hot._ The idea of making amateur porn movies flashes through Dean's mind briefly as he begins to jerk himself slowly, picking up the pace little by little. He bites his lip to stay quiet, eyes intent on the pair inside the cabin.  
  
He watches them make love, Future Dean's hands gripping Sam's hips and Sam beginning to softly moan when Dean ruts up into him, leaning over to kiss him, the pair letting hums of pleasure bleed into each other's mouths.  
  
Eventually Future Dean grows more animalistic, more primal, more impatient. He rolls Sam over to get on top, taking Sam's hands and pinning them up over his head, their fingers interlacing while Future Dean begins to fuck Sam hard into the bed. Sam wraps his legs tightly around Future Dean's hips in silent plea for him not to stop. The moans grow louder.  
  
And Dean's own grow with them, now stroking himself with tight grip and speed. "Mmn.." God, how badly he wants to go back inside and join them, how badly he wants to fuck Sam himself.. or even this other version of him, if he is being completely honest. Or both. But in this case three's a crowd, and Dean knows his older self needs this. From the sounds of things, Future Dean never let Sam know how he felt and vice versa, so this is completely new for him. The first and last time. But at least he got to experience it at all. To show Sam how much he means to him, how much he cares for him—all without having to say the actual words. Just like Dean always prefers to show his affection; through actions.  
  
Dean has a feeling the angels definitely didn't intend on _this_ happening.  
  
Future Dean's body is shining with a thin sheen of perspiration, his panting growing shallow and fast along with the speed of his thrusts. Sam manages to free his hands and clutch Dean's back, limbs now wrapped completely around Dean in desperation as the two—and younger Dean—grow closer and closer to the point of no return.  
  
"Fuck, Sam," Future Dean groans breathlessly as he presses his face into the crook between Sam's neck and shoulder blade, soon prompting a choked out cry of pleasure from their little brother. Their shared moans grow to a point that Dean wonders if any of the camp can hear it—and Dean watches them both come together, muscles locking and the tension bursting out of them both like a floodgate. It's too much for Dean too, and he's right behind them, spilling into his hand with a few stuttered gasps, doing his best to be silent. As guilty and ashamed as he feels, there's no denying this was one of the best orgasms he's had in a very long time, barring the one he shared with Sam the previous night. A very slight insecure and possessive side wonders briefly which of the two Deans Sam enjoyed more.  
  
He watches Future Dean pull out and lay boneless on Sam's chest as the pair try to catch their breath. No words are exchanged. No words are needed.  
  
It doesn't take long until their drained energy results in the pair of them drifting to sleep. Dean cleans himself up (with a goddamn leaf—where the hell can a guy find some toilet paper around here?) and heads inside, removing his boots and jacket before joining them on the bed, lying beside Sam. He rests his head on Sam's still clammy shoulder and throws an arm around the both of them.  
  
And Dean swears that just before he drifts off himself, he hears a voice a lot like his murmur "thank you.."


End file.
